


Redemption

by springhorton



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Father-Son Relationship, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Molestation, Past Abuse, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springhorton/pseuds/springhorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ugly life of Augustus Mortmaigne comes back to haunt James Hathaway once again as he and Lewis find themselves on a similar case. This time, a ten year old boy has been found raped and murdered. Hathaway can barely contain his embittered emotions which threaten to ruin the case, his career and a new found chance at love. He must confront his own demons, but after so many years of hiding the truth and who he is, even from himself, will it destroy him when the past finally catches up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Lewis and it was a story that, while a lot of writers have explored, I just had to add my own version. It takes place some time after Dead of Winter. Also, while the majority of the fandom seems to ship Lewis/Hathaway (which they do a great job of), I just don't. To me, they have always been more like father and son. I do maintain that Hathaway is gay though and have introduced a love interest for him. As you can see from the tags, it is a very deep and disturbing story, so enjoy at your own risk.

"Damn it James!" Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis shouted at his young Sergeant. "You can't just-"

"With all due respect, Sir-" Hathaway cut in, but Lewis was having none of it.

"Respect? You go off halfcocked, on your own, and completely botch up this case. How is that showing me respect?"

The tips of Hathaway's ears turned pink and his gaze fell to the ground.

"You can't keep letting your personal life interfere with your work," Lewis went on.

"I have no personal life," Hathaway mumbled.

"Hah. You do have your personal feelings though and they keep getting dragged in to things." Hathaway looked back up at him and he added, "I know you've been having a rough time of it lately. I know how you feel."

"No you don't!" Hathaway shouted, his whole face beet red now.

Lewis frowned. He'd exchanged many a word with Hathaway, but he couldn't remember the Sergeant making such an outburst before. He looked as if he'd like nothing better than to tear Lewis's head off. The Inspector's features softened and he took a step forward.

Suddenly, Hathaway's expression turned to one of shock and regret. He dropped his head and shook it. "I'm so sorry, Sir," he said.

Lewis reached for his arm, but he turned away. "Go home," Lewis said. "There's nothing more we can do here."

Hathaway nodded and allowed Lewis to pat him once on the back before walking away.

Later that day, Lewis sat at a table in the back of the White Horse, nursing a pint and staring off in to space.

"Robbie?" Laura Hobson prompted again.

"Oh, sorry. What did you say?" he asked, half-heartedly.

"I was asking if Hathaway was alright. Maybe I should have asked if you were."

"Ah, I'm fine," he said, waving it away.

"You know, this is starting to feel like a very familiar conversation," Laura said.

"I know," he sighed. "He tries to be stoic, yet he seems to take everything so personally."

"Is it..." she hesitated, knowing she was on tricky ground. "...the same as before?"

Lewis flashed a look that said he really didn't want to discuss that. "I don't know," he finally said. "But there's definitely something going on."

"Well, I have a nephew coming to visit from London. He has the same sense of humour and overinflated cleverness. They should get along splendidly."

"Yeah, or strangle one another," Lewis quipped.

"That is a possibility. I'm picking him up at the train station in an hour. I'll check on Hathaway and bring him along."

"Good luck."

"Where are we?" Jack Hobson asked an hour and a half later.

"James Hathaway's flat," his aunt answered. "He's a policeman I work with. He's...not feeling very well. We're just going to check on him for a minute or two."

Jack cocked and eyebrow and nodded. "Ok," he said slowly as they got out of the car.

“Stop being so clever,” Laura said in exasperation. “I am not playing match maker.”

Jack laughed. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

Laura glared at him and huffed as she knocked on Hathaway’s door. She heard a muffled, “What?” from inside and pursed her lips. “Oh dear,” she mumbled.

“Sounds like a cheerful chap,” Jack quipped.

“I told you-“

“Yeah, I know, he’s not feeling well.”

“James,” Laura called. “It’s Doctor Hobson.”

The door opened and Hathaway looked her over, suspicious. “Did Lewis send you?”

“No, actually.”

Hathaway wasn’t sure he believed her, but his eyes slid over to Jack who was smiling a bit more than was polite. “Who’s this?” he asked without looking back at Laura. He took Jack in. The man was a bit shorter than him with bright auburn curls, freckles and beautiful blue eyes. Hathaway shook his head and frowned before turning back to Laura.

“This is my nephew, Jack,” she answered. “He’s in from London.”

“Hi,” Jack said pleasantly and held out his hand.

Hathaway took it for a moment and then introduced himself just as quickly before stepping out of the way to let them in.

Laura and Jack walked in and looked around. Laura had been expecting the messy flat of a stressed out bachelor, but Hathaway’s place was spotless.

“Wow,” she let slip. She looked up and Hathaway turned to see her blush. “Sorry, I just meant…”

“I…clean,” Hathaway answered simply.

“I know what you mean. You looked famished though. When was the last time you ate?”

“You know me, coffee and nicotine.”

“Well sit down before you fall down and I’ll whip up something.”

Hathaway obeyed and Laura disappeared into the kitchen.

“Don’t mind my aunt,” Jack said. “She gets overprotective.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Hathaway answered.

“No? Well, I suppose you know her as well as I do. Actually, I think she’s trying to set us up.”

Hathaway glanced up sharply, his heart suddenly pounding. “I’m not gay,” he said, his voice hard.

Jack’s eyebrows shot up and he gave Hathaway a sideways grin. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” he answered through gritted teeth. He balled up his fists and looked away.

“Yet you clean when you’re stressed.”

“What’s that got to do with-“

Jack chuckled and waved it away. He glanced over at Hathaway’s book shelves, impressed. There were lots of highbrow books dotted here and there with religious manuscripts.

“Are you religious, James?”

Hathaway stood and began to pace. “Are you going to tell me that it has something to do with my sexuality?”

“Religion always has something to do with it. So, are you?”

“I…was.”

“Ah, an apologist. Catholic then, I bet.”

Hathaway frowned. “What about you?”

“I’m an agnostic, I guess you could say.”

Hathaway chuckled mirthlessly. “So the guy who doesn’t know what to believe likes taking the piss out of people who do.”

Jack nodded. “I guess you have me there. But it seems to me like you don’t really know what you believe anymore either.”

Hathaway gritted his teeth and looked away. He pushed back the mental picture of punching Jack in the face and took a deep breath.

“Look,” Jack said quietly. “I’ll be here for a couple of weeks. Why don’t you come have a drink with me sometime?”

Hathaway glanced his way, catching a glimpse of those mischievous blue eyes. He wanted to dislike Jack, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead of annoying him, the mental stimulation had turned him on. Getting turned on, though, had annoyed him. It wasn’t just anyone who would openly discuss things so deep and personal as sexuality and religion with someone they’d just met. Despite his better judgment, he found himself drawn to and liking Jack.

He nodded slightly, staring at the floor and said, “Yeah, why not? I’ll probably have a good bit of free time anyway.”

Hathaway had been wrong though. Early the next morning he was awakened by his ringing phone.

“Hello,” he said drowsily.

It was Lewis. “They found the boy’s body.”

Hathaway’s mind reeled. The thought, at least it wasn’t me who found it this time, went through it and then he scolded himself for being so weak and selfish.

“Was he…molested?” he asked.

“We don’t know yet. Doctor Hobson is with the body and SOCO is looking over the scene. Get dressed and come in.”

“Are you sure?”

“We need you on this, James.”

Hathaway hung up the phone and stared at his bedroom wall. He rubbed his chin, running his finger along the thin scar on the left side and then climbed out of bed and quickly dressed.

“Morning, Sir,” he said as he stepped in to Lewis’s office with a coffee for both of them.

Lewis cocked and eyebrow as he took a cup, but only said, “Morning.” He waited for a moment, but Hathaway only shuffled and stared at his feet. So he took a deep breath and said, “They’re ready for us at the scene.”

Hathaway nodded and the two men set out for the car park.

“Are you alright?” Lewis asked as he drove towards Headington. “Laura said she cooked dinner for you last night, but you didn’t say much.”

Hathaway glanced at the Inspector and then away again. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, tapping his fingers on his knee.

Lewis frowned at him, but didn’t push him any further. The two men were quiet all the way to Headington Park where the little boy had been found under a tree. SOCO was still sweeping the area and the boy’s body had been prepared for transport and covered. A small crowd had formed outside the park, including the boy’s parents.

Hathaway saw them as he stepped out of the car. “I don’t suppose they’ll want to speak to me again,” he said.

“After accusing them of pawning their son off to a paedophile? No, I suppose not,” Lewis answered.

“Well, it looks like I was right, doesn’t it?”

Lewis quickly crossed the distance between them and held up a finger. “I’ll have none of that today, Sergeant. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We’re here to collect facts, not to prove theories and not for personal vendettas.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Good. You should be. Just…behave.”

The two of them put on gloves and walked toward the tree where Laura stepped over to meet them.

“Was there any…funny business?” Lewis asked.

“I still can’t be certain yet, but it looks like it, yes.”

Hathaway frowned and gritted his teeth. “Can we see him?”

Laura and Lewis glanced at him in surprise. Laura hesitated and then said, “The two of you might as well come to the autopsy.”

“What about the scene?” Lewis asked.

“SOCO hasn’t found anything. It looks like a carefully staged dump sight.”

“Great,” he mumbled. “Nothing to go on.”

“Maybe the body will tell us more. Come on.”

Hathaway was deep in thought all the way to the hospital and Lewis was on the verge of telling him to go home when they arrived. In autopsy, Laura set to work with Lewis following her. Hathaway stood in a corner with his arms crossed over his chest.

Laura suited up and slowly unzipped the bag. Lewis groaned and shook his head and Hathaway looked down at the floor. It was immediately apparent why Laura had figured he’d been molested. The boy’s body had been dumped completely naked and was covered in bruises.

“Good lord,” Lewis grumbled. “Who would do something like this?”

Hathaway looked back, his face flushed. He was breathing hard and swallowed back bile in his throat. “Someone without any remorse,” he said quietly.

Lewis looked over at him while Laura and an assistant gently turned the boy over on his stomach to continue her examination.

Hathaway stepped a bit closer. “He was dumped like a piece of rubbish. If his killer had felt any remorse at all he would have redressed him, maybe even buried him.”

“Robbie,” Laura said softly. The two men turned to look at her and she nodded.

Hathaway bit his cheek and then turned and quickly walked out of the room. Once in the hall, he ran for the rest room and threw up in the first stall, bile mixing with blood from his cheek. He heaved until there was nothing left and then slid to the floor, losing the battle to fight back his tears. A few minutes later, he bit back his grief and walked to the sink to rinse out his mouth and wash his face.

The door opened and Lewis stepped in behind him. “Doctor Hobson has her initial findings. He was…um…”

“Raped,” Hathaway said, staring at him through the mirror. “He was raped.”

“Yeah. And then smothered.”

Hathaway shook his head and smiled mirthlessly. “What a wonderful world.”

“Listen, if you don’t think you can handle this case, you don’t have to.”

Hathaway turned and glared at his Inspector. “No, Sir. I want to be on this case.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, not sure he wanted to let him.

“Yes. I can handle it.”

When they went home that evening, they didn’t know much more. The boy, ten years old, had disappeared from a neighbour’s house, a neighbour who had some suspicious proclivities. In the end he had checked out though. Three days later, the body of the boy had turned up, beaten, raped, apparently repeatedly and then smothered and dumped in the park. It looked like the boy had put up a good fight and they’d hoped to find some evidence. They’d found nothing. It looked as if the body had been washed before being dumped. There were no clues at the scene either.

Hathaway changed out of his suit into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He picked up his guitar and sat down on the edge of his bed to strum, but no music would come. He didn’t normally wear short sleeves and he was suddenly distracted by the faint pink scars on his arms. He traced the lines hypnotically before lying down and staring at the ceiling.

The sound of his phone brought him out of his reverie. He thought about ignoring it, but he finally picked up. “Yeah?” he answered.

“Hi,” he heard Jack say on the other end. “I heard it was a bit of a rough day. Thought you might like a drink.”

“Sure.” He got up, switched to a long sleeve t-shirt and took a bus to the city centre.

They met a few minutes later at the Eagle and Child. Jack was already sitting at a table, sipping an ale, when Hathaway came in. He ordered a beer and took it over to the table.

Jack cocked an eyebrow and looked at Hathaway over his drink.

“What?” Hathaway asked as he sat.

“Skinny jeans?”

Hathaway glared at him, but Jack’s mischievous look softened him. “They’re the only ones that fit.”

“I believe that,” Jack replied, a bit cheeky, a bit flirty. The look on Hathaway’s face made him leave it along though. “So, I picked this place because it’s supposed to be where all the intellectuals hang out.”

“Yes, about a hundred years ago.”

Jack laughed and nodded. “Well, I suspect that’s not actually considered a long time around here.”

Hathaway took a drink and nodded. “True.”

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

“What?”

“The job.”

“I’m not actually allowed to talk about open cases.”

“Well, what about closed ones?”

“Why would I want to talk about closed cases?”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned back. “Ok, not work then. I hear you’re a fan of the Snark.”

“Oh god,” Hathaway said with a chuckle. Then he frowned and said, “You seem to hear a lot about me.”

“I do, don’t I?”

Hathaway rolled his eyes and took another drink. “I am not discussing the Snark with you.”

“No?”

“Have you even read it?”

“If you can call it that. My eyes slid over it a couple of times.”

“You sound like Lewis.”

“Oh wow. Is that good or bad?”

“Depends, I suppose, on whether or not you tell me it sounded like a load of nonsense.”

“It was!”

Hathaway shook his head and smiled. “Yeah, I guess it was, wasn’t it?”

Jack laughed too and then got up to get them another round of drinks.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Hathaway joked.

“Would you like me too?” Jack asked as he sat back down.

Hathaway took the drink and stared at Jack. When he realised it, he looked away and took a sip. He didn’t know what to think or feel anymore. Almost without him noticing, Jack had begun to wear him down. He was still nervous and confused, but part of him felt comfortable with Jack. Even though they’d just met, he trusted him, felt safe. Suddenly, he shook his head, feeling foolish.

“I don’t know you,” he said.

“I thought we were remedying that,” Jack answered. Hathaway drummed his heels and Jack added, “I’m not trying to push you in to anything, James.”

“Good, because I doubt you’d like me all that much,” he answered, surprising them both.

Jack hesitated while he blushed and then said, “You could let me find out for myself.”

Hathaway glanced at him and then quickly looked away. He stood and started to walk away.

“James? Come on,” Jack said, standing too.

“I’ll be right back,” Hathaway assured him and went in to the restroom. He washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror. “What are you doing, James?” he mumbled. He stared at himself, overcome by a wave of self-loathing. He took a deep breath, willing himself not to punch the mirror and then turned around.

The vision of his face in a broken mirror was replaced by one of him and Jack, naked and sweaty. He clenched his teeth and shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the stirring in his pants. He leaned back against the sink and thought about everything he could to stop his erection. When he felt it was safe, he walked back out. The sight of a clearly concerned Jack sitting at the table did not help though so he sat down as quickly as he could and looked away.

“Are you alright?” Jack asked.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

Jack frowned. The night had already gone downhill so he thought he might as well screw it over. “Why does this bug you so much?” he ventured.

“What?”

“The possibility that you could like me as more than a friend.”

“I already told you,” Hathaway fumed. “I’m not gay.”

“So?”

“So?” he chuckled. “Seems like an important point to me.”

“Not as much as you’d think. Is everything black and white to you?”

“Isn’t it?” Hathaway asked, taking another drink.

“You know, for some so clever, you are-“

Hathaway slammed his drink down, shattering the glass and Jack leaned back in shock. “It’s not that simple,” he said.

“That’s actually the point I was trying to make,” Jack said quietly. Hathaway frowned and he added, “James, your hand.”

He looked down and saw a bloody gash on his palm. A waitress came running over and handed him a cloth to wrap it with. “Sorry about this,” he said. “I’ll pay for it.” 

He stood to leave and this time, Jack knew he wouldn’t be able to stop him. He watched him go with a sigh.

The next morning, Hathaway showed up late to work, but Lewis let it slide. He just frowned and said, “What happened to your hand?”

“I had a date,” Hathaway quipped.

“I don’t think I wanna know.”

“So, what’s the word?”

“The word is that Doctor Hobson may have some evidence after all. We’re waiting for her analysis and to get witness statements.”

The two of them spent the day talking to people who thought they’d seen the boy at one time or another, most of which were complete dead ends. Toward the end of the day, Laura finally appeared in their office, a barely concealed smile on her face.

“What is it?” Lewis asked. He and Hathaway stood and crowded around her.

“You know that the killer meticulously washed away the evidence?”

“Right.”

“He missed something.”

“What did you find?” Hathaway asked eagerly.

“Semen. I found it when I swabbed his rectum.”

Hathaway’s heart pounded. “How can that be? If he was careful enough to-“

“It was only a trace amount. I think he was using condoms and one of them broke.”

Lewis whistled. “Is it viable?”

“We’re checking now. It might take a while. Go home and get some rest.”

Hathaway could barely breathe, thinking he might jinx something if he was too hopeful. He felt Lewis’s hand on his arm.

“She’s right. Let’s call it a day,” he said.

The next morning, there was a knock on Laura Hobson’s door. Jack answered it to Hathaway leaning in the doorway.

“Hi,” Jack said, a bit surprised.

“I…wanted to apologise for the other night,” Hathaway said softly. “I acted like an ass.”

“Yes.”

Hathaway looked up at him and the two of them started laughing.

“I was just packing a picnic for the Meadows. Care to join me?”

Hathaway pursed his lips and nodded. “Ok.” He went in and helped Jack pack up some odds and ends and the two of them drove over to Christ Church Meadows. They found a tree, spread out a blanket and set out their brunch.

Jack chuckled as he watched Hathaway nibble at a roll. “You aren’t a big eater are you?”

“How could you tell?” Hathaway quipped.

“Coffee and nicotine huh?”

“And the occasional pint.”

“I’ve spent some time on that diet myself.”

Hathaway smiled. “I don’t spend a lot of time at home. Some nights I don’t make it home at all.”

“Not much time for cooking then.”

“No.”

“I could remedy that as well,” Jack said with a grin. “I’m a great cook.”

“You don’t give up do you?”

“Never. You know, I was blond as a kid. Not like you though. Yours is beautiful.”

Hathaway shook his head. “It’s just blond. Yours is beautiful.”

“Really? I hate it.” He laughed and scooted closer. “You can touch it if you like.”

Hathaway blushed and shook his head. When Jack didn’t budge, he looked back up at him. He frowned, but slowly reached up and touched Jack’s hair.

Jack closed his eyes, his lips parting slightly as Hathaway ran his fingers through his ginger curls. After a moment, Jack opened his eyes. Hathaway was staring at him so Jack slowly leaned forward and kissed him.

The two of them lingered there and then Hathaway took Jack’s face in his hands and kissed him back. His lips devoured Jack’s hungrily, his tongue forcing Jack’s mouth open.

Jack let him control the kiss, a moan coming up from his throat. He reached up and grabbed the back of Hathaway’s neck while his other hand moved down his chest.

Hathaway whimpered and relinquished control to Jack who moved even closer. He moved his hand underneath Hathaway’s shirt and started to lean him back.

Hathaway pulled away. “Jack, stop.”

Jack moved to kiss him again, but he scrambled away and got to his feet. “I’ve got to go,” he said.

“James-“

“I’ve got to go. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“Damn it! Jack, you idiot,” he breathed as he watched Hathaway jog away.

That afternoon Lewis and Hathaway were called in to the station when Doctor Hobson’s analysis was complete.

“Was the DNA good?” Lewis asked as a breathless and weary looking Hathaway jogged in to his office.

“Not only is it good,” Laura answered with a mischievous smile that made Hathaway shake off images of Jack. “It’s in our database,” she finished.

“No,” Lewis said in disbelief.

“Yep. It matched a man named Alan Granger. He was arrested for paedophilia in London, but the charges didn’t stick.”

The two detectives got Granger’s address and took Lewis’s car to the suspect’s house. Hathaway was silent the whole way, staring ahead with an angry, determined look. 

When they reached the address, Hathaway knocked on the door and announced, “Oxford police.” There was no answer so he wandered around the house while Lewis waited at the front door.

A few minutes went by and Lewis grew impatient. “Sergeant?” he yelled.

“Yes, Sir,” Hathaway yelled back. “I thought I saw-“

Lewis never heard the rest. Instead, his ears were filled with ringing as someone clocked him over the head.

Hathaway came around the corner of the house as Alan Granger ran in through the front door. He ran to Lewis who was doubled over, but still conscious.

“Sir, are you alright?”

“Go after him!” Lewis yelled in reply.

Hathaway ran in through the open door and spotted Granger rummaging through a desk drawer. He made for Granger, knocking him to the floor and causing a gun to fly out of his hands.

“Looks like we’ll have to charge you with possession of an illegal firearm as well,” Hathaway growled.

Lewis, having recovered, stepped through the front door and picked up the gun. “You’re under arrest Granger,” he announced gleefully.

Hathaway pulled Granger to his feet and shoved him up against the wall. “Is that the only way you can get off?” Hathaway yelled into his ear. “Hmm? By raping little boys?”

Lewis let Hathaway take of the frustration, understanding how he felt. But suddenly, Hathaway pulled Granger back, shoved him violently against the wall again and started punching him in the back.

“Sergeant!” Lewis yelled.

Hathaway didn’t hear him though. He threw Granger to the floor and kicked him over and over again, finally landing one between his butt cheeks.

Granger cried out and Hathaway said, “How does it feel, you sick sack of shit!”

“James! Enough!” Lewis yelled and tried to pull him back. Hathaway tried to shrug him off, but he finally managed to pull him away.

Hathaway turned on him, blood lust still in his eyes and Lewis held up his hands.

“It’s enough,” he said.

Hathaway glared at him for a moment and then turned and stomped outside. He handcuffed Granger and pulled him to his feet.

“As I was saying, you’re under arrest you miserable bastard.”

“I want to file a complaint,” Granger whimpered, covered in blood and bruises.

“You do that.”

When they got back to the station, it was impossible to deny what had happened. Superintendent Innocent put Hathaway on leave and hoped Lewis’s testimony would be enough for the case. She doubted it though as the defense was sure to jump on the beating Granger had been subjected to. When Hathaway protested being taken off the case, she told him he was lucky to have a job at all and made him go home.

That night, as Lewis was about to sit down with a bottle of beer and a culinary microwave masterpiece, he was interrupted by his phone. 

He grumbled and answered with a less than enthusiastic, “Hello?” There was nothing but silence so he repeated the greeting.

“Sir?” he heard Hathaway’s voice on the other end.

The sound alarmed him. It was soft and distant. “James?” he said quizzically. “What is it?”

“I…I’ve done something stupid, Sir. I need your help.”

He could hear the tears in Hathaway’s voice and a barely contained panic filled his mind. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

“Not yet,” Hathaway answered and it was as if a hammer dropped in Lewis’s mind.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, jumping up, dinner forgotten. “Just stay on the line,” he added, but the call had already gone dead. He tried phoning back as he rushed to his car, but Hathaway didn’t answer. 

He sped through town to Hathaway’s flat, thankful for a quiet evening. After the Mortmaigne case, he’d made Hathaway give him a spare key to his flat to check up on him. He used it now without even bothering to knock. The flat was dark, but he saw a faint glow under the bedroom door and ran to it.

He knocked and yelled, “James!” When there was no answer, he threw open the door, not knowing what to expect.

Hathaway was sprawled out on his bed, in his pyjamas. On the bedside table was an empty pill bottle and a half empty bottle of whiskey.

“No,” Lewis breathed and ran to the bed. He took Hathaway by the shoulders and shook him. “Come on, son. Wake up.” He was unresponsive so Lewis grabbed the bottle to see what he’d taken. Sleeping pills. “Damn it, James,” he mumbled and grabbed the Sergeant again. He pulled him to the side of the bed, found a trash can and then got one of Hathaway’s fingers down his throat.

Once the heaving started, Hathaway’s stomach did a pretty good job of emptying on its own. Lewis just held his head and made sure he didn’t choke. By the time they were through, Hathaway was semi-conscious, but Lewis called Laura just to be sure.

“He did what?” she said.

“Yeah, I know. Just tell me what else I need to do.”

“You should get him to a hospital, Robbie.”

“I can’t. He’s already on suspension. I don’t want him to lose his job over this.”

Laura sighed. “You did the right thing. Just make sure he’s vomited as much as he can, get some fluids into him and watch to make sure he’s alright. If he doesn’t get better, then you’ll have to bring him in.”

“Ok, thanks.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No, I think we’re ok.”

Lewis hung up and got Hathaway to throw up a bit more, but there was nothing except white foam left. He helped Hathaway roll back over and then shook his head.

“Silly sod,” he said, paternally.

Hathaway opened his eyes and stared at Lewis, a bit glazed over. His breathing quickened and his face flushed. His eyes began to dart back and forth in panic. Finally, a low moan escaped his lips, followed by violent, racking sobs.

Lewis quickly leaned over and pulled him up into a hug. He gently rocked his young partner as Hathaway cried into his shoulder.

“It’s alright now, son,” he said quietly, rubbing Hathaway’s back. He held him until his tears were spent and he hung limply in the Inspector’s arms. “What’s going on, James?” he asked, gently. “Did this case rattle you that badly? Is it because of this thing with Jack Hobson?”

Hathaway leaned back. “You know about that?”

“Well, I know you’ve been seeing a lot of each other.”

Hathaway shook his head and chuckled. “The thing is that, I really do…want to be with him.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I can’t let go of my past.”

This time Lewis shook his head. “Why don’t you tell me about it? Let me share some of that pain.”

Hathaway grimaced and took a deep breath. “Ok,” he whispered.

Lewis waited, but he didn’t continue. With great effort the older man finally said, “James, was it Mortmaigne? Did he abuse you?”

Hathaway closed his eyes and nodded, but didn’t say anything.

Lewis felt like throwing up himself, but forged ahead. With Hathaway so hesitant, he didn’t know what else to do, but treat it like an interview.

“He touched you?”

“Yes.”

“Did he make you…perform sexual acts on him?”

Hathaway looked away. “Yes.”

“James…did he…rape you?”

Hathaway’s voice caught in his throat and tears began to run down his cheeks again. “Yes,” he whispered.

Lewis took him in his arms again. He stiffened at first, but then dissolved into sobs while Lewis told him everything would be alright.

Once the story began, Hathaway couldn’t stop. The truth came pouring out of him like a confession and Lewis could only listen and try to hang on to a thread of sanity.

“When I was seven,” Hathaway started, still clinging to the Inspector, “Mortmaigne told my parents that he wanted to give me piano lessons. One day, after a couple of sessions, he stuck his hand down my pants and started playing with my penis. He said it was a little game, just between us. After that, he’d sometimes make me play naked or would fondle my bottom.”

Lewis took a deep breath, swallowing back tears as Hathaway went on, “When he got bored with that, he started making me play with his or sticking his fingers…Then he made me…” He paused for a sob and to catch his breath. “He forced himself into my mouth. I thought I would choke or throw up.”

Hathaway was trembling now and nothing Lewis said could make him stop. He wasn’t sure Hathaway really knew he was there anymore.

He droned on, unable to stop. “Near my twelfth birthday, Mortmaigne wanted to teach me a piece to play for my party. After the lesson he seemed really proud of me. He made me stand by the piano and then bent me over and pulled down my trousers. He pushed his fingers inside of me, forcing them in and out for a few minutes and then…I felt something bigger shoved in. It all happened very quickly, but I knew what he had done. After that, he became more experimental, but always careful. He made sure to use lubricant and…open me up so there weren’t any signs of what he’d done. I remember being on the floor and his awful weight on top of me and one time he made me straddle him. One day, he came to the lesson in a hurry to get past the piano part. It was like he’d been waiting to…all day. He propped me against the piano again, but this time he just…took me. It had always hurt when he’d forced me, but that time it felt like nothing I’d ever imagined. I started to scream, but he covered my mouth. I could feel his hot breath and moans in my ear. He thrust himself into me, over and over again, so hard and deep that I could hear the piano creaking from the strain.”

Hathaway stopped to gulp back sobs and Lewis was crying now too. On top of that, though, he felt a burning hatred. His blood was boiling and he knew that if Mortmaigne had been in the room, he would have killed him with his bare hands.

“Good god,” he breathed.

“God wasn’t there that day,” Hathaway answered. He went on in little more than a whisper. “When he was finished, he told me to go home and clean myself up. I knew I was bleeding and I was in so much pain that I could barely walk. When I got home, I tried to hide it, but my parents knew that something had happened. I told them what Mortmaigne had done and they confronted him. I think he paid them off because we left a week later and they promptly forgot that he’d ever raped me.”

The two men sat there in silence for a while and then Lewis pushed Hathaway back. The Sergeant looked hollow, depleted, but Lewis took his face in his hands and made him look at him.

“It’s alright now,” he said. “Mortmaigne can never hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

“It doesn’t matter, Sir,” Hathaway mumbled. “He’s already broken me.”

“Is that what these are all about?” Lewis asked, holding up Hathaway’s arm, where the pink scars were visible.

Hathaway nodded. “And this,” he said, pointing to the scar on his chin. “I crashed a motorbike right after I left Seminary, on purpose.”

“And how old were you when you did these?”

Hathaway smiled and shook his head. “Fifteen. Though I think it may have been more about getting my parents attention than killing myself.”

“What are you smiling about?” Lewis said, suddenly angry. He took Hathaway by the back of the neck, startling him. “I know this looks like a good way out for you, but what about the rest of us? Do you think you’re the only one who’s hurting, the only one that’s had something tragic happen? And what about the people who care about you, the people who have to bury you?”

Hathaway stared at him, wide-eyed. He tried to talk, wanted desperately to apologise. Disappointing Lewis may have been more painful than anything else. He couldn’t make his voice work though. He shook his head, sobbing again; feeling like his chest would explode. 

“Oh hell, James, I’m sorry,” Lewis said. He tried hugging him again, but he slipped out of his grip.

“No,” he squeaked out. “You-“

“Ssh. I know, I know. Come on now. Everything’ll be ok.”

Hathaway looked at him and knew that in those kind eyes was forgiveness and understanding. “I’m sorry, Sir,” he said. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” Lewis said and wiped away his tears. Then he leaned forward and kissed the younger man’s forehead. “Get some sleep,” he said and then sat with him until he drifted off.

When Hathaway was asleep, Lewis took the bottle of whiskey and turned off the lamp. He sat down in Hathaway’s armchair where he could still see the younger man. Then he proceeded to weep and drink himself to sleep.

The next morning, Hathaway woke with a colossal hangover. He dragged himself to the bathroom, careful not to wake his partner, and freshened up a bit. He stumbled back out and looked Lewis over. The Inspector didn’t look much better than he did. He gently took the empty bottle out of his hands and sat back down on the bed.

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. Hathaway groaned and Lewis woke with a start.

Hathaway started to get up, but Lewis waved him away. “I’ll get it. You stay here.” He heaved himself up and left Hathaway sitting there. A few minutes later, he reemerged with Jack Hobson in tow.

“You have a visitor,” he announced. “I have to go in and see about our case. If you need anything…”

“I know,” Hathaway answered, nodding.

Lewis stumbled away, leaving the two younger men to glance at one another awkwardly.

“Are you ok?” Jack finally asked.

“Yeah.”

“Look, I hope this didn’t have anything to do with me.”

“No,” Hathaway assured him. “It was the case.”

“How do you mean?” Jack asked, sitting down next to him.

He took a deep breath. “The same thing happened to me as a kid.” When Jack looked quizzical, he added, “I was sexually abused. For years.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open and sorrow entered his eyes. “I…I had no idea.”

“No one did, really.”

“I mean…I never would have-“

Hathaway silenced him with a frown and then kissed him. 

Jack was startled, but did not resist. He relished the warm feeling of Hathaway’s mouth. They were quiet when they broke apart, but after a while Jack said, “I could show you how it’s supposed to feel, if you let me.” He quickly added, “When you’re ready I mean. Not right now.”

“No,” Hathaway answered. “I want you to.”

“Right now?”

Hathaway nodded and kissed him again, a long, soft kiss that seemed to warm his mind and body. He felt Jack taking off his shirt and he opened his eyes. Jack’s gentle, reassuring look sent shivers down his spine and he let himself be leaned back this time.

Jack started at his neck, gently licking and nipping at his pale skin. Then he traced his tongue down his chest and stopped at the left nipple. 

Hathaway looked up with a chuckle as Jack took it in his mouth and sucked on it. “What are you doing?”

Jack only glanced up at him with an evil grin. 

Hathaway started to say more, but suddenly, Jack began to flick the tip of his nipple back and forth with his tongue. His head fell back with a gasp and his jaw dropped open. His breath quickened. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned as his hips began to squirm. He’d never become so hard so fast.

“Wow,” he breathed.

Jack stopped to let him breathe and laughed. Then he slowly slipped off Hathaway’s pants. He took up a position between his legs and began licking and nipping again. He slowly worked his way down until he hovered over Hathaway’s cock. He took it, first in his hand and then in his mouth.

Hathaway cried out and his hips jerked upwards. He involuntarily grabbed Jack’s hair and dug his fingers in.

Jack didn’t complain though, only pushed down harder, forcing another yell from Hathaway. After a few minutes, he sat up and undressed. He got Hathaway to roll on to his side and then went to look for lubricant. He came back with some Vaseline and a condom from his wallet to find Hathaway trembling. 

He laid down behind him and whispered, “Shh,” as he caressed the back of his neck. Then he planted kisses down his back until the Sergeant relaxed again. He reached down and gently rubbed Hathaway’s skinny cheeks, moving his hand steadily harder until he was giving them a good squeeze. He sensed that Hathaway was ready so he dipped a finger in the Vaseline and gently teased him, running his finger up and down.

Hathaway closed his eyes and breathed deep, a part of him anticipating pain that never came. He felt Jack stop to re-lubricate and then the tip of his finger slowly enter him. He felt a bit of pressure, but Jack’s finger quickly slipped further in. Hathaway groaned and, surprisingly, felt the urge to push back.

“That’s it,” Jack said softly and began working his finger in and out.

“Oh god,” Hathaway breathed and put his head down as he thrust back harder.

His body was slick with sweat already and Jack licked it off, savouring the taste. He slipped his finger back out, lubed a second one and tried working them both in. Hathaway whimpered so Jack slowed down. When he finally got them in, the Sergeant yelled out his name and thrust back hard.

Hathaway couldn’t think anymore. All he knew was Jack and the sensations coursing through his body. He began to thrust wildly, crying out, his breath coming so fast it was choking him. Jack tried to slow him, but he couldn’t stop.

“Jack!” he screamed again and he felt his fingers pull out.

He tried to catch his breath as Jack rolled him on his stomach. He heard him fumbling with the condom and his body tensed. Then he felt Jack on top of him, but it was different than Mortmaigne had been. He felt safe. Jack’s weight was comfortable and he allowed himself to relax.

Jack carefully spread Hathaway’s cheeks and positioned the tip of his cock. With a gentle push, it slid in.

Hathaway grunted and squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s ok. I won’t force it,” Jack assured him. He slowly worked the tip in and out.

Within moments, Hathaway was thrusting back again. Jack’s cock pushed inside him and he gasped in surprise. It didn’t hurt at all, but was wonderfully pleasurable instead.

This time, Jack cried out and had to keep himself from going too fast. He slowly thrust in and out, giving Hathaway time to adjust. He didn’t need it though and shoved up to meet him, willing him to go deeper and faster. He reached up and grabbed Jack’s hip, trying to pull him closer.

“Oh god, Jack,” he moaned.

Jack wrapped an arm around him and dropped his knees to the bed to straddle him. He pushed his hips down toward the bed, driving his cock deeper. He pulled up and slammed down, faster and faster, the sound of slapping skin and screams of pleasure filling the bedroom. Jack sat up, holding on to Hathaway’s shoulders and slid his hips back and forth as hard and as fast as he could. He knew he was close and started yelling, “Yes, James!” over and over.

Hathaway reached back with his long arms and held on to the back of Jack’s knees. He used them to pull himself back to meet Jack’s thrusts. “Please Jack!” he screamed a moment later. “Please!” and he felt Jack hammer into him and hold it for a moment, yelling his name. His come spilled out all over his stomach and the bed, shooting out ferociously. He felt Jack go back to thrusting and it made him come even harder. He pushed back too, his hips moving of their own will and the two men continued their rhythm until they were exhausted.

Later that day, Lewis and Laura went to Hathaway’s flat to check up on him. When they knocked on the door it was answered, to their surprise, by a laughing Hathaway, still in his pyjamas and holding a slice of pizza in his hand.

“Oh,” he said, surprised to see them too.

“I see you’re feeling better, Sergeant,” Lewis quipped.

He nodded and moved out of the way to let them in.

Laura stepped in with a smile. Lewis followed, giving Hathaway a puzzled look. He was pulled away by the sound of laughter though. He stepped in to the living room to see Laura giggling at the sight of her nephew in nothing but a bathrobe.

Jack dropped his slice of pizza and stood up, embarrassed.

Laura was still giggling, but Lewis’s eyes widened and his mouth flopped up and down a couple of times. He glanced over at Hathaway, but he was staring at his feet, blushing deeply.

“We, um, just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Lewis said after clearing his throat. “I guess we should leave you to it.”

He and Laura turned to leave, but Hathaway quickly stepped in front of them.

“Uh, no, Sir. I mean…it would be nice if you stayed. We have plenty of pizza to go around.”

“I’ll get dressed,” Jack added and disappeared into the bedroom.

Hathaway got some plates and beers, leaving Lewis and Laura to stand in the living room and give each other curious glances. Then the four of them sat down for what could have been a very awkward lunch. Instead, a few minutes later they were all talking and laughing. Laura and Lewis were amazed at how well the two younger men got on. Laura shared embarrassing stories of Jack’s childhood and Lewis was relieved that a burden had obviously been lifted from Hathaway. He knew that it would take more than one night’s confession for Hathaway to truly get passed what had happened to him, but he was happy that his Sergeant was on his way.

A few hours later, Lewis got up to take Laura home. Jack said that he’d see her later and waited while Hathaway walked them to the door. Laura said her goodbyes as well, leaving Lewis and Hathaway alone.

“Thanks for coming by, Sir,” Hathaway said.

Lewis nodded. “I’m glad you got everything worked out with Jack.”

Hathaway blushed again and nodded.

“I think you’ll be good for each other. What are you going to do when he has to go home?”

“We’ll see each other when we can, weekends mostly. He might look for a position here. We’ll work something out.”

Lewis nodded with a smile. “The case looks solid. I think the Superintendent will let you come back to work…as soon as you’re ready.”

“It’s your turn now, Sir.”

Lewis frowned. “My turn?”

Hathaway grinned and nodded toward Laura. “To let go of the past,” he added.

Lewis chuckled. “We’ll see, James. We’ll see.”

Lewis turned to go, but Hathaway turned him back and pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you, Sir…for everything.”

Lewis patted him on the back and said, “You’re welcome, son.”


End file.
